A Message

He sat in front of the monitor tapping away at the keys, he was angry, he felt his place was out there, out there where the bodies were, out where the story was, instead, he had to transcribe what came in.  Phones around him rang loudly and with each ring, his anger became hotter and hotter.

When his phone rang, he almost screamed into it, he squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath and calmed himself.

As the voice spoke, the whole world around him became mute, the voice was deep and low, it spoke with no urgency, it simply stated it's message:

"I want you to listen, what happened today, is nothing compared to what is planned for the future.  This was as you Americans would say... a trial run.  I will be calling in the future with our demands.  Right now we are gathering our people and putting them in place.  We will tell you what we want and, we expect to have that in the alotted time.  There will be no negotiations, no compromises, no American hedging, no tricks..  We will call again in 24 hours, we will call you.
Do you understand?"

He understood, he voiced his understanding to the man on the phone. 

After hanging up, he blinked several times.  Snatched the micro cassette from the recorder, they had laughed at him about it, who'd be laughing now? He slammed the receiver onto the cradle and headed for the editors office..  The thought occurred to him, he would have a big part in this story, a bigger part than any of the others.

Reaching the office, he stopped short.  Staring at the cassette, he thought about the power he held.. he wondered,,  how much would it be worth?

The End

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